The Unraveling of Corset Strings
by piewacket
Summary: This is what might have occurred if Elizabeth had not worn the corset the day James proposed. Written for The Fireplace Challenge #3- The Butterfly Effect. Very AU.


AN: This is a one shot written for The Fireplace Challenge #3- The Butterfly Effect. The Butterfly Effect is a theory that one small event can set off a chain reaction that alters/ affects the future.

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The sound of the drums nearly drowned out the shouting voice of the official as he droned on and on listing each of the culprit's crimes against the Crown. Most of the crowd that gathered cared little about the actual offenses; they just wanted an afternoon of free entertainment. Old, young, rich and poor alike attended, for nothing brought out the entire town like hanging.

The recitation continued. Ironically, only one person seemed to derive any real amusement from the proceedings and he was the very reason for the whole spectacle. His lips curled into a reminiscing smirk as he mumbled a correction to one of the charges levied against him. Given the circumstances, he appeared remarkably insouciant. Yet a more observant attendee would have noticed the frantic darting of his eyes over the crowd. His gaze desperately swept and searched the throng of milling folks as if looking for an ally or a savior.

But the townspeople were more interested in discussing the local gossip and day to day details of their lives than in the filthy pirate on the scaffold. It would only be when the enumeration of misdeeds was completed that they would devote their attention to the platform and the man standing upon it. Snippets of conversation floated through the air, with talk of everything from whom the butcher was currently shagging to the latest shipment of goods arrived from England yesterday. In the shadows, the more ghoulish of the lot were placing bets on how long it would take the birds to pick the body clean once the hanging was over.

However, in the place of honor the conversation was more cheerful and refined. Four days prior, at the Commodore's promotion ceremony, the Governor's daughter and Commodore Norrington had become engaged. This evening there was a party being held to formally announce the betrothal.

"Father, I insist that Will Turner be invited. He has been a good friend for many years."

Governor Swann sighed and used a lace handkerchief to wipe the sweat collecting on his forehead. It was a close, stifling day and arguing with his daughter was the last thing he wished to do. Still, propriety must be observed. "Elizabeth, my dear, I am certain that young Mister Turner would be the first to object to such an idea. He is only a blacksmith and would not be comfortable amongst our other guests."

Elizabeth raised her chin, determined to enter into a verbal battle over the issue. She attempted to take a deep breath but her new underclothing made such a feat impossible. Instead, she took several short shallow draughts of air and regrouped her thoughts. An idea occurred and she turned to her new fiancé. "James, please? Please help father see reason."

James looked down into his fiancée's pleading eyes. It was hard for him to deny her anything. He was still reeling from his good fortune in her accepting his offer, as he'd been more than a little worried she would politely decline. However, the thought of inviting a common laborer to the party was well outside the bounds of polite society. Not to mention, this particular laborer appeared to hold a special place in Elizabeth's heart. "Elizabeth, it would not be proper."

Elizabeth gently tugged on James' sleeve. "James, please, as a wedd…" Her request was interrupted as a wave of dizziness assailed her.

James quickly caught his fiancée. "Elizabeth, are you feeling ill? Shall I have someone see you home?"

"Yes, James, that would be for the best. We would not want her ill for tonight's festivities." Governor Swann answered on behalf of his daughter.

"No, father. I'm fine. Really I am. I was merely a touch dizzy. It's so very warm today." Elizabeth dredged up her best smile to reassure the two men. She could not resist adding, "Arguing about our guest list has left me a bit worn out."

James took the remark for what it was, a not so subtle hint. With a sigh, he acquiesced, "Very well, Elizabeth. We will invite Mister Turner to tonight's festivities. Though, you should not be surprised he if refuses to attend." Any man, who was as obviously in love with another man's fiancée as Turner was with his, would be a fool to attend such an event. William Turner might be many things but foolish was not among them. Prudently, James did not give voice to this opinion.

The conversation was cut short as the official at last reached the end of his lengthy recitation of the pirate's misdeeds and everyone's attention became riveted towards the center of the square.

"Have you anything to say for yourself, Mister Sparrow?"

"Captain. It's _Captain_ Sparrow."

The pronouncement perplexed the young official. He had expected a plea for mercy or a recanting of sins, not the answer he had received. With a slight shrug of his shoulders, he rolled up the parchment and nodded briefly at the executioner. A moment later, there was loud thud as the trapdoor opened beneath the condemned man. The slightly built pirate dropped through the opening, and came to a quick stop as the rope reached the end of its length. With a violent jerk, his body absorbed the impact. Townspeople closest to the platform were treated to a sickening crunch as the pirate's neck snapped. A few involuntary muscle spasms and the now lifeless body dangled limply from the noose; carrion for the crows that would soon gather.

The Governor and his party missed the dénouement of the afternoon's festivities. For at the very same time as the executioner pulled the lever, Elizabeth Swann collapsed into a heap. Immediately, Commodore Norrington was on the ground cradling his fiancées head. Governor Swann shouted for some water, which a servant supplied post haste. James gently bathed Elizabeth's face with the cool water and soon her eyes fluttered open.

For a few moments, she engaged in a panicky struggle against his tender embrace. Both men strained to catch her words as she mumbled incoherently about Pirate Lords, sea beasts and the edge of the world. Then, the confusion cleared and she calmed.

"Mister Murtogg, fetch the Governor and Miss Swann's carriage." Norrington was beside himself with worry and berating himself because he had allowed Elizabeth to attend today's hanging. Such an event was too much for the sensibilities of a refined, young lady. "Elizabeth? Elizabeth, are you all right?"

Discreetly, Elizabeth tugged at the corset, trying to loosen it enough to take a proper breath. Her father and fiancé pretended not to notice her actions. "Really, I am fine. There is no need for such a fuss. I was only having a bit of difficulty breathing because of my …" She caught herself in the nick of time, as she had been about to make a comment regarding the new style of undergarment she had donned this morning. While Elizabeth personally felt such a remark would not be so very terrible, she knew that James would be scandalized should she make it. This marriage was going to require quite a lot of work on her part, if it was to succeed. For, although it was smart match, it was a match of two very different type people.

The carriage arrived and Governor Swann stopped dithering long enough to assist his daughter in and climb in after her. Norrington made to join them, but the Governor forestalled him. "James, stay here and finish your duties. We will see you later tonight."

When it looked as if he would protest, Elizabeth chimed in, "James, do not fuss so. I only require some rest, and then I shall be perfectly ready for tonight's ball."

The carriage pulled away and the journey to the Governor's mansion occurred in silence. Each occupant was lost in their own thoughts. Elizabeth was marveling at the short but intensely vivid dream that she had experienced; one that had held promises of freedom and adventure.

The Governor was busy alternating between berating himself and congratulating himself on his stroke of luck. He was berating himself for presenting his daughter with that new fangled contraption known as a corset. Thankfully, the ship bearing the present had been delayed and only reached port yesterday. As the carriage drew near the front door of his home, Governor Swann mused to himself, _Lord only knew what kind of mischief could have occurred if Elizabeth had been wearing that damn and blasted garment the day of her engagement._


End file.
